


i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies; i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

by bloodredcherries



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, For Want of a Nail, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 09:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherries/pseuds/bloodredcherries
Summary: “Is she in the basement in the Wyrm? We both know how safe that is.”Was it a low blow? Of course it was. Cheryl wasn’t proud of it.“No,” he corrected. She watched as he ran his hands through his hair. “A place that kept Alice and Polly safe,” he elaborated.“What place would that be?” She asked, her tone filled with ice. FP Jones was being vague, and Cheryl Blossom did not approve. “Kept them safe during what?”“Alice…she had my baby,” he mumbled.A 3.06 fix it fic.





	1. disowned in some frozen devotion

Cheryl Blossom had absolutely no time to deal with what she viewed as Cousin Betty’s absurd histrionics. It was dreadfully sad that Jughead and Archie had wandered off into the abyss (Cheryl could play at dramatic just as well as the Cooper cousins, thank you very much), but sitting around and wallowing in her misery (and more importantly, in Cheryl’s mind, having the nerve to ignore Cheryl’s text messages and phone calls) was beyond the pale. Cheryl could handle Cousin Polly being absolutely batshit, but if she had dragged Cousin Betty  _ and _ Cousin Alice along with her, there would be fiery hell to pay. 

It was obvious to Cheryl that  _ someone _ needed to be in charge, and with the absence of Jones and Lodge (not that Cheryl would have ever conceded authority to Jones), it appeared that snapping Betty out of her bizarre funk fell to her. Which was why Cheryl had found herself standing in front of the Coopers’ Elm Street property, a look of pure boredom and derision on her face. If she had to listen to Cousin Polly ramble on about that cult again...well, the entire world would hear her vocal reaction. 

Never one for patience, Cheryl rang the doorbell, pressing the button repeatedly, determined to get a response. The Gregorian chimes (of  _ course _ Cousin Serial Killer and Cousin Alice would have something so  _ banal _ as that as their doorbell, she groused. There was no originality anymore) blared in her ears, each chime more annoying than the next, and she forced herself to remain cool. There were obvious signs of life in the house -- a truck was parked in the the driveway, and Cheryl could hear the sounds of what she recognized as  _ blue collar construction work _ (what? She had seen it on television) taking place indoors. If Polly had convinced Cousin Alice that it was acceptable for people of Blossom blood to take on home repair with what sounded like  _ machinery _ , Cheryl was going to strangle her. She did not care if she was the mother of her niece and nephew. The image that she had of Cousin Alice using whatever that  _ obnoxiously  _ loud instrument of destruction was sent chills down her spine. 

Cheryl sighed, and she tried the door handle, her mood not improving when she realized that it was unlocked, as if the Northside was an acceptable place to keep doors unlocked when there was general insanity going around. No. This was unacceptable. 

With gritted teeth, Cheryl Blossom entered the Cooper house, and she drew her jacket around her. Who knew what evil lurked inside? Not she.

“Cousin Alice?” She forced herself to shout. “What are you doing? Cousin Betty? Cousin Pollykins?” 

She followed the noise, determined to put a stop to this madness. 

Manual labor was beneath the Blossoms, no matter how crazy they were. And if no one had bothered to inform her new family members of this, she would remedy the situation. 

The noise stopped. (Cheryl was still unsatisfied by this.) She heard footsteps. 

“Who’s there?” A familiar -- yet male -- voice demanded, a hardened tone to his voice that deeply offended Cheryl. “Alice has a gun,” the voice continued. “Don’t think I won’t find it and use it on you.”

“Oh, please,” Cheryl drawled. “Do you think that threatening to shoot me is going to scare me? By the time you  _ found _ the gun I would have shot an arrow between your eyeballs.” She rolled her eyes. “Where is Cousin Betty? What have you done with her?”

If Cheryl was honest, she really didn’t think that FP Jones had bothered to do anything with Cousin Betty, but, whatever. She wasn’t overly fond of the former Serpent King, and, in absence of Cousin Pollykins, goading FP Jones would have to satisfy her. 

“Alice,” he said in reply, and she raised a brow, silently demanding more of an explanation than the name of his poorly hidden paramour. “Said that it was somewhere safe for her to go. They were threatened.” 

“Where?” She asked, her tone bored. She pointedly examined her nails in lieu of looking FP Jones in the eyes. “Is she in the basement in the Wyrm? We both know how  _ safe _ that is.”

Was it a low blow? Of course it was. Cheryl wasn’t proud of it. 

“No,” he corrected. She watched as he ran his hands through his hair. “A place that kept Alice and Polly safe,” he elaborated. 

“What place would that be?” She asked, her tone filled with ice. FP Jones was being vague, and Cheryl Blossom did not approve. “Kept them safe during what?”   
  


“Alice…she had my baby,” he mumbled, and Cheryl felt herself soften  _ slightly _ towards the man standing in front of her, though she was certainly not going to let that show. “We were just  _ kids _ and, my God I  _ sucked _ so she tried to get...Cooper to think that he was the kid’s dad, thought he’d show up, you know? He wanted her to...get an abortion. So she went away. To a place that she’d be protected. Came back after five months and never gave me the time of day again.” 

“What place is this?” She queried. “Do you know?”   
  


“Uh, yeah,” he said. “The old convent,” he muttered. “On the outskirts of town. Why?”

“The...Sisters of Quiet Mercy?” Cheryl questioned. “Is that what it’s called?” Cousin Alice made  _ so much _ more sense now. Cheryl shuddered. Jones nervously lit a cigarette. “Isn’t it fitting?” She continued. “No one bothers to tell a single adult about what happened to me there,” she purred. “I’m pretty sure Cousin Betty and your hobo son even used the knowledge about my experience to  _ blackmail _ the nuns to release information on your…” Cheryl trailed off. “Didn’t you wonder why I joined the Serpents?”

It was obvious that the child that Cousin Alice had hidden from FP was a touchy subject, and Cheryl had the sense to not push it. For the moment.

“Toni said that it was none of my business,” he replied. “That you...I never really asked, honestly. You wanted to join and I didn’t want to scare you away from Toni and the rest of the kids if I was going to be a deal breaker for you, you know? Would you have really told me?”

“Perhaps not,” she allowed. “I don’t think I have a choice, do I?”

“What?” He gaped. Cheryl rolled her eyes. 

“As if I would let Cousin Betty just sit there in that hellhole,” she snapped. “She might be completely odious on occasion but I refuse to let her rot in that poor excuse for a convent. And, for that matter, wouldn’t you like to know if my experiences could shed some light on the constant enigma that is Cousin I Married a Serial Killer?” She scowled. 

“Don’t call Alice that--”

“Honestly, if my choices were between you and the man that told me to get an abortion?” Cheryl said, “generally speaking, I would probably default to the one who  _ didn’t _ suggest that I go against my beliefs and kill my unborn child.” She crossed the room to a professional photograph of Cousin Betty at her First Communion, flanked by Cousins Serial Killer, Alice, and Polly. “And for Heaven’s sake,” she told him. “Maybe Cousin Alice’s mental health would improve if she wasn’t constantly staring at pictures of that horrible man.” 

“I didn’t deserve her,” he muttered. “She wanted things I couldn’t give her.”

“Oh, please,” Cheryl stated. “This attitude is juvenile. You are not in high school, anymore, Mr. Jones. This isn’t a repeat of Alice letting Hal take her to prom. This is an actual issue that requires your attention as an adult, one that pretends he can function in society.” She sighed. “For that matter, where did Cousin Alice wander off to? Don’t tell me: that ridiculous farm.”

“Polly told her--”

“Has no one sat Cousin Alice down and reminded her that it was  _ my brother _ who put the ideas of the farm in Cousin Polly’s head?” It was mainly a rhetorical question. Cheryl knew the answer. “I don’t have time for this. I refuse to allow Cousin Betty to sit in that convent for a moment longer than she needs to, and, for that matter, it is time for you to be an adult and tell Cousin Alice that you have feelings for her and will certainly keep her safer than that farm. Mention your involvement with Jay Jay’s murder,” she encouraged. “It would probably be a turn on for her.”

“What?” FP demanded, and she pitied him. “Absolutely not.” 

“It was a joke,” she sighed. “The part about Jason.” She sighed. “Does Cousin Alice know you’ve done all this?” 

“I wanted to make it safe for her,” he muttered. “For when she came back.” 

“She’s not going to ‘come back’,” Cheryl informed him. “Where have you been? I understand that the farm benefits you because she’s decided that it makes perfect sense to take you into her bed, and indulge in carnal pleasures you think no one else knows about, but surely you know that Cousin Alice is lost? She’s searching for...well, I don’t pretend to understand her thought processes, but--”

“She’s not coming back?” 

Cheryl raised a brow. “You need to make her want to come back,” she drawled. “This is all well and good, but how does she even know you’re doing it? If you really love her, you need to prove it.” 

“She said that she would come back when it was safe,” he muttered. 

“It will  _ never _ be safe for Alice,” she said, her tone pointed. “Sure, the Gargoyle King might go away, your renovations may make things  _ technically _ safe again, but, there will always be a reason, there will always be an excuse, and she will  _ never _ feel safe here. Why would she? Her husband’s misdeeds are  _ constantly _ present. And, when she’s not haunted by those? She’s probably having the constant playlist of the ways  _ she _ wronged you playing through her head.” 

“But, she  _ didn’t _ wrong me,” he insisted. “Why the hell would she have ever given me a chance? I was a dick to her.”

“Does she know that?” Cheryl asked, her tone one of patience. She remembered that this was a person who put his own teenage son as a gang leader, who thought that a good career for a recovering alcoholic was helping manage a speakeasy, who...very clearly was a version of Cousin Alice who had never managed to get out of the Southside, and whose poor breeding and poor choices tended to shine through whenever they needed not to. “FP? Does she know that?”

“Thought she understood,” he muttered. “Didn’t think things needed to be said.”

“And, do we see where we went wrong there?” Cheryl asked, her eyes filled with compassion, and she put her hand on his shoulder, managing to not wince at the sweat from manual labor that she had the misfortune to contact with. “Cousin Alice thinks that she has to hide Betty away from the world because the Sisters of Quiet Mercy are where she  _ felt  _ safe, and she still feels that way 25 years  _ after _ your child was born.” She sighed. “Meanwhile in her desperate attempt to have a home, to rebuild her life, she has fallen victim to Polly’s manipulations. Which, let’s face it, is so typical of Polly.” She sighed again. “She is punishing Cousin Alice for actions that she thought would protect her, and Cousin Alice is just too blind to see that.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “What the hell did I do?” 

  
  



	2. there is clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For someone who is exceedingly proud to not be of Blossom blood, she certainly does act like she has inherited a dose of incesteous crazy.”

“You did what you thought was best,” Cheryl said, and she impressed even herself with the kind tone that she heard leaving her lips. “How were you supposed to know that Cousin Polly is knee deep in that ridiculous cult? I am assuming that the two of you don’t exactly hold scintillating conversations when you have the grand misfortune of being in the same living space.”

“She hates me,” he admitted. “I don’t think we’ve said more than two words to each other. Look, Cheryl, I’m sorry about what I did to your brother,” he said, and Cheryl sensed both desperation (so unbecoming!) and sincerity (something that was rarely directed towards her!) in his tone. “I know that I wasn’t the one that killed him,” he added. “But, I’m still sorry that I was involved in any way.”

“I don’t blame you,” she told him. “I mean...part of me wants to blame you for what happened to Jason,” she admitted. “But, you weren’t the one that killed him, and you weren’t the one who took the easy way out instead of facing up to what you’d done…” She sighed. “I accept your apology.” Whatever. Cheryl didn’t see the point of keeping up that ridiculous grudge when there were so many things that she needed to devote quality judging time to. 

“You really think that seeing the pictures doesn’t help?” He asked. The conversational change was blatant, and Cheryl normally wouldn’t have indulged someone doing such a hideous job at it, but, well, it appeared that she wasn’t going to have to shoulder the burden of the Care and Keeping of Cousin Alice alone, even if it was unfortunate that her compatriot was FP Jones of all people, and not someone that Cheryl normally considered worthy of association. 

“Of course they don’t help,” she said. “Would  _ you _ like to sit in a house and see pictures of the man who killed innocent people, led the entire town to live in fear, and then topped things off to strangle you, on a constant basis? While one of your children is forging prescriptions for her controlled substances and the other is off in la-la who cares what Dad did Mom taking the pictures down means you’re letting him win land?” He opened his mouth. “She’s forging her adderall prescription, it’s all very banal, upper-middle-class, cheerleader of her. That isn’t the important thing.” 

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “Let’s burn them.”

“We can’t burn down Cousin Alice’s house!” Cheryl admonished. “She would get angry at us. You would have spent all that time  _ sweating _ and using tools for no reason.” 

“Didn’t mean burn down the house,” he said. “I meant burn the pictures. That would probably piss her off too, though,” he said. Cheryl heard him sigh. “At the very least, I’m gonna take them down. No one needs to see Hal Cooper’s face staring down at them while they try to watch television.” 

“Do you have any idea where the farm is?” She asked him. 

“Yeah,” he said, and she watched him shrug. “Allie, she told me. Wrote me down an address. Said I was welcome to stop by.” 

“And? Were you going to?”   
  


“Eventually, yeah,” he told her. “I mean, what do you want me to say? You said you know what we’re getting up to.”

“You would have to be devoid of senses to not see what the two of you are up to,” Cheryl informed him. “For two people so utterly incapable of expressing feelings and emotions, you both wear them quite blatantly.”

“What are you trying to get at?” 

“Well, I mean, when she’s not wandering around all chakras and aura cleansing,” she was sure her derision for Cousin Alice’s actions showed, but Cheryl didn’t much care. “She’s following you around like a besotted puppy, as if she’s decided that  _ openly pining _ for you is a good use of her time. I mean, compared to her other choices of late, it definitely is,” she allowed. “And then there is you,” she sighed. “Don’t you know how strange the other Serpents find it that you’re  _ happy _ all of a sudden? I mean, especially given the circumstances that you all find yourselves in. Surely you are not thrilled to be the sole one with a non-burnt trailer?” If this was so, Cheryl was going to find it in her to explain why such positivity was beneath even him. “Why are you living there? Are you saying that living here with Cousin Alice would be so  _ odious _ to you?”

FP Jones gaped at her like he was a fish. Cheryl raised an elegant brow. 

“Honestly, this latest stunt has proven that she needs to be supervised,” she said, sighing. “Letting her idiot seventeen year old make decisions for her? Not wondering why on earth Cousin Betty was able to bully the truth about  _ your _ son from that horrible Sister Woodhouse? Feeling that that hideous  _ nunnery _ is a safe place for anyone? At least you are strong enough to physically stop her from behaving like an unhinged moron.”

He opened and closed his mouth, obviously thinking better of mounting a defense on Cousin Barely Functioning’s behalf. 

“For someone who is exceedingly proud to not be of Blossom blood, she certainly does act like she has inherited a dose of incesteous crazy.” 

“Look, Cheryl, what do you want me to do? I can’t turn back time and make things better for Alice,” he said. “If I could, I would have.”

Cheryl sighed. “Don’t you have  _ any _ idea how to have a functioning relationship?” She demanded. “Never mind. I remember your wife. No wonder Jughead is the way he is.” She sighed. “Cousin Alice doesn’t need you to turn back time,” she said. “She needs you to be there for her, to support her, like those couples you see on television? In movies?” She gave him a pointed look. “Don’t the Serpents take care of their own?”   
  


“Yeah,” he said, becoming very interested in the floor. “We take care of our own.”

“And...should we not do that very thing for Cousin Betty and Cousin Alice?” Cheryl said, her eyes comically wide. “No matter how uncomfortable it might make us to step outside of our comfort zones?”   
  


“Yeah, we probably should,” he agreed. “I don’t want Alice to stay in the cult, and I don’t want Betty to...have whatever is so bad that happened to you happen to her. What happened, anyways? To you?”   
  


“I wish to not relay that information,” she allowed. “You need to...do something to freshen up,” she said, and she wrinkled her nose, “and then we need to solicit the aid of Sheriff Keller.” 

“What? Why?”

“Why?” Cheryl drawled. “Because you reek of  _ manual _ labor,” she said. “It’s unappealing. I don’t want you stinking up my sports car with it.” 

“No, why do we need to talk to Tom?” He asked. “This has nothing to do with what happened to Archie.” 

“Because what happens there is  _ illegal _ and I don’t have the energy to drag myself and you over to the  _ actual _ Sheriff and watch him come up with a million excuses why we both should be arrested,” she said. “I have better things to do with my money than bail us out of jail based on his hatred for the Serpents.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “That makes sense.”

“Of course it does,” she said. “Things often make sense when you utilize the wonder that is common sense to them.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You have half an hour to make yourself look something vaguely approaching presentable,” she decreed. “I might even deign to let you be my chauffeur.”

“What kind of car is it?” He asked her. She smirked. 

“It’s a Bugatti,” she purred. “I just got it the other day.” 

“A Bugatti?” He breathed. “How the hell can you…” 

“Oh, you know,” Cheryl purred. “I have very full pockets,” she said. “Something to think about when you process how our new Serpent King hasn’t bothered to utilize me as a resource.” She waved dismissively at him. “Go on now,” she said. “I need to see if Cousin Alice has bothered to keep any nibbles in the house in her latest New Age Fiasco mode.”


	3. standing alone, on the street with a cigarette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t call Jughead that,” he muttered. “You can make fun of me all the hell you want, I won’t stop you, but Jughead doesn’t deserve to be called that.”

It was painful for FP to admit this to himself, but, he decided that there was a possibility that Cheryl Blossom had a point about her whole theory about communication being important, or whatever, given that Alice had gone running off to that bullshit farm the second she had felt threatened, to say the least of the ridiculous behavior she had been displaying lately. He felt as if it was possible that he was at least partly to blame for Alice’s latest stunt -- no, he hadn’t been the one to bring the concept of the farm to her attention, but he  _ had _ said that he was glad that the farm had opened her up to the idea of them being together. Not that they were together. No. He knew better than to expect Alice to want him for anything more than the stolen moments that they shared. 

Why the hell would someone who had actually achieved things in life like Alice Cooper want anything to do with her loser ex-boyfriend who lived in a damn double wide trailer in a smoldering trailer park? Where the hell did Cheryl Blossom get off putting such ideas in his head? He wasn’t dumb, okay? He had never been good enough for Alice. 

He sighed. Regardless of his feelings of self loathing, he guessed that he could agree with Cheryl that the farm was a bad environment for Alice, and...well, who the hell knew what had happened to her at that convent, FP sure as fuck didn’t, but he didn’t want Betty being sent there and getting hurt. What the hell was Betty  _ doing _ at the convent, anyways? He could have sworn it was only for pregnant teens. 

Like Allie’d been. 

God, he’d been so fucking stupid.

“So we’re going to sit in silence while we locate our former Sheriff?” Cheryl’s voice demanded, cutting through FP’s inner angst, and he glanced over at her, before refocusing his gaze on the road. He had never driven a car nearly this expensive before, and he didn’t want to crash it or anything. That would be awkward to explain to everyone. He was sure that her goodwill would evaporate. 

“I just don’t understand,” he said, after a moment, his tone cautious. “Where’s your baby?”

“Non-existent,” Cheryl told him. “Why on earth would you think that I was having a baby?”   
  


“Cause you went to the Sisters,” he explained. “I mean, that’s why people go there, right? Allie had our baby, and they made her give him away, and--”  _ Now he’s dead _ , he thought to himself, not willing to say the words out loud, but remembering them all the same. He should have been there for her. He should have...fuck, he should have  _ tried _ to be there for her at least, for her and Betty, should have realized Hal was a fucking  _ asshole _ and fought harder for her, if not back in high school than at any point in their shitbox lives. “It’s a place for unwed mothers.”

“Troubled youths,” Cheryl corrected. He glanced at her. “Not everyone there is pregnant.”   
  


“Is Betty?” He had to ask. 

“I am dubious,” she drawled. “Given Cousin Neurotic’s decision to base her choices on her perceived notions on safety. However, even if there is a little hobo on the way, surely there are less...past repeating in the present choices of how to handle things?”

“Don’t call Jughead that,” he muttered. “You can make fun of me all the hell you want, I won’t stop you, but Jughead doesn’t deserve to be called that.” 

The thing about being FP Jones, was that, well, to be honest? He really did know all of the different ways he’d screwed up over the years. Sure, sometimes he talked a good game, but, he knew. He really didn’t care what people thought about him. He was less than thrilled when people spoke badly about his kids. Jughead and Jellybean were good kids, much better children than either he or Gladys had deserved, and he would fight for the death for them. Sure, he never saw Jellybean because Gladys had fucked off to Toledo, but, she was still his kid. And, Jughead? His son’s adventures in homelessness had been his doing. Well, honestly, FP thought the kid had been going for pathos and drama versus just having the sense to tolerate his drinking problem when the option was staying in the school’s janitor’s closet, but, well, that was the difference between him and Jughead. 

However? He was not letting Cheryl call Jughead a hobo. 

“Fine,” she said, her gaze feral. “Notice how communication works? You told me that you did not want me using my favorite nickname for Jughead, and, I am electing to indulge your whims. Where  _ does _ Kevin’s father live?” She questioned. “It was not my intent to have him replaced by someone so...openly corrupt.” She sighed. “Honestly, people have  _ no _ finesse anymore, Mr. Jones. It’s just...sad.” 

“Given the people whose pockets he’s in,” FP said, as he headed down the street that the Kellers lived on, itching for a smoke but having the sense not to light one up in Cheryl’s brand new sports car, “you can’t really be surprised that he’s about as subtle as a heart attack.”

“Ah, yes, the  _ Lodge  _ family,” Cheryl drawled. “Funny how teenagers’ lives are magically important when their appearances are on the line, but not when they’re their daughter’s friend who  _ wanted to die _ and had nearly succeeded in doing so in the river.” He heard her sigh again. “They did that to me.”

“Did what to you?” 

“Oh, you know,” she said, and he winced at the bite her tone had, even though it wasn’t directed at him. “Your daughter brings her friend who has just fallen through the ice at Sweetwater River to your apartment at the Pembrooke, and your response isn’t compassion, of any sort, but, rather, insist that your daughter go to the Jubilee, and tell her friend that she can dry off for a little but has to go home. Veronica listened to her.” 

“Hermione Lodge is shady,” FP told her, as he parked the car carefully in the Kellers’ driveway, shutting it off before turning to look at the teenager sitting beside him. “She always has been, and she always will be,” he said. “She’s been like that ever since we were kids, younger than all of you. So, Cheryl, I’m not surprised that she did that to you. She’s never liked your mother, and, well, as evidenced by what happened with Archie, the Lodges don’t separate children from their parents’ perceived sins.” He sighed. “Sometimes I think that she’s the mastermind behind all of their weird, Mafia, bullshit. Regardless, that was a bullshit move. If you were my daughter’s friend…” He trailed off, and shook his head. “You’re Jughead’s friend,” he settled on. “He’s not my daughter, but he’s my kid, and you’re his friend. Even if you weren’t his friend and he had just happened to find you at the river and you needed a place to stay and someone to try to be an adult for you, I would have put my feelings about your parents aside in a heartbeat.” 

“Because I’m a Serpent?”

He shook his head. “No, I would do that for you independent of you being a Serpent,” he admitted. “Just seems like a shitty thing to do to a kid that was hurting.” He sighed. “Come on, we’re here.”

Tom Keller and FP Jones weren’t exactly friends -- even when FP had been in the Fred Heads with Sierra, their circles and paths hadn’t exactly intertwined -- but, as of late, in their new statuses of un-gainfully-semi-employed, the two had decided it was easier to just try to get along. Fred seemed to exist in a constant state of semi-togetherness, and, well, Keller and him had agreed that anything possible that kept him from going down some sort of ridiculous path was what they would do. He still had a suspicion that showing up with Cheryl Blossom in tow would raise some concerns with the other man. The whole situation was very strange to FP. He had pinched himself numerous times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. It had hurt, so he had defaulted to being awake. 

“You have a daughter, don’t you?” Cheryl asked, her tone not unkind. He glanced over at her, before nodding slightly. “Why isn’t she here?”   
  


“Lives with her mom,” he mumbled. “Out in Toledo.” 

“I didn’t know you got a divorce,” she said. He rang the doorbell. 

“I didn’t,” he muttered. “We’re not divorced.” 

“So, she kidnapped your child?” Cheryl asked, her sweet tone quite the contrast to the question she asked. “I mean, that’s what it sounds like to moi?”

“Gladys left because she hated my drinking,” he muttered. “Personally I think it’s because she got pissed I wouldn’t make her Queen. She and Penny Peabody were always too close for my taste. Took Jelly with her, left Jug. Did you see Jellybean?” He asked, his tone almost desperate. “When she came up when I was in jail?”

“Jughead lived in your trailer alone,” Cheryl told him. “Ask Toni. There was no foster family...no sneaky living with Archie Andrews...no living with Cousin Bad At Killing…and  _ definitely _ no missing mom rolling into town.” 

The sad thing was, that FP wasn’t actually surprised by that. Sure, he had led himself believe that Gladys was capable of being a semi decent person and not leaving their own child high and dry, but, in truth, he knew better. Wasn’t that typical of her? Unfortunately for his ability to process the latest development, the door to the Kellers’ house opened, and revealed Tom Keller himself, whom FP plastered on a very faked grin for. 

“We have a problem,” he muttered, by way of explanation. “Cheryl says that they require your legal expertise.” 

“Not to worry, Sheriff Keller,” she added. “The two of us haven’t done anything wrong besides continuing to generally exist.” 

  
  


***

  
  


The thought of whatever legal situation  _ both _ Cheryl Blossom and FP Jones could have possibly gotten had nearly sent Tom’s blood pressure through the roof, and, well, in a painfully worrying sense, it was a comfort that Cheryl claimed that they were not the ones committing illegal activities. Still. The thought of them having paired up together to right whatever wrongs they had discovered was not something that he found all that sanity inducing. He thought it was a disaster waiting to happen. 

At least they had decided to solicit his help, he soothed himself, as he stepped back so they could enter his house, thankful that Kevin wasn’t there to involve himself in whatever bizarre situation had erupted. 

“Would one of you care to explain what your problem is?” He asked, trying very hard to keep the wariness out of his tone. “You said they, so, problems, I suppose.” 

“You need to shut down the Sisters of Quiet Mercy,” Cheryl said, her tone downright soft, and he noticed her extreme interest in the floor. “I should have said something sooner, maybe things would have been different, but I was  _ so angry _ when Midge was killed, and--”   
  


“What happened, Cheryl?” He asked.

“Cousin Alice has sent Cousin Betty there,” she explained. “She can’t stay there, we have to get her out. They did such  _ horrible _ things to me. I don’t think that they’ll do them to Cousin Betty,” she continued. “But, Mr. Keller, they  _ hurt _ me. They hurt so many people.” She sniffled. “Kevin knew, and he didn’t think it was a big deal,” she whispered. “The guys in the camp, I think that they were coming up to him because they knew who he was, who  _ you _ were, and they probably thought he could talk to you and have things  _ fixed _ but all he cared about was  _ fucking _ them.” 

“You talkin’ bout conversion therapy?” FP asked her. Tom’s eyes widened. 

“How do you know what that is?” Cheryl questioned. 

“When the state passed that executive order making it illegal,” he said, as if recalling a fond memory. “Your bastard cousin and Alice spent  _ three whole weeks _ arguing over whether it was morally wrong.” He smirked. “From what I can recall, it was Hal who was a proponent of it,” he mused. “Alice seemed to develop a sudden belief in loving who you want, and respecting people’s life choices. Three whole weeks without a single article deriding the Southside. I was sort of concerned.”   
  


“Ah, yes, my mother’s paramour,” she sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still involved. Does Shankshaw offer conjugal visits?”

“You’re telling me that the Sisters of Quiet Mercy not only offers  _ conversion therapy _ as a hidden program, but that Kevin knew about it, and never told me?” Tom demanded. “Where is Alice, anyways?”

“That’s problem number two,” Cheryl answered, her tone brisk. “You see, it appears that Cousin Alice has been hoodwinked into joining the absolutely  _ batshit _ cult that Cousin Pollykins and Jay Jay thought would be a perfectly good use of their time,” she said, and Tom (who really prided himself on being impartial) admired her ability to gaze at him with puppy dog eyes. “This is absolutely unacceptable. How on earth did the Sheriff’s office allow someone who was the victim of an attempted murder to fall through the cracks? Was caring about Cousin Alice beneath the office of Sheriff Minetta?”   
  


“I--”

“I really don’t understand,” Cheryl continued. “I mean, no offense,” she glanced at FP when she said that, before fixing her glare on him. “I could understand why you decided to accuse poor Jughead of murder on a whim, and I could understand why keeping FP locked up on your ridiculous charges while not checking to make sure that the foster family you’d scrounged up on the side of the road ever bothered to see him, let alone, allow him to live with them. Not to mention allowing someone with ties to that Ghoulie gang to just move across state lines with FP’s daughter, which, I believe, is most likely a parental kidnapping, given that they are still married and you can’t just wander off to Ohio because you don’t like that your husband won’t let you help run his  _ gang _ and take your minor child with you -- but, Cousin Alice? She’s a Blossom. Oh, sure, not by blood. But those grandchildren of hers are, and Cousins Betty and Crazy-eyed are. I don’t take kindly to my family members falling through the cracks, Mr. Keller.” 

“Of course not,” he said. “I didn’t realize…”

“Oh, come on, Tom,” FP interjected. “What the hell in that statement didn’t you realize? She ain’t wrong, you know.”

“It’s possible that I have made a mistake,” he admitted. “Several mistakes. And, I don’t even know where to begin with Sheriff Minetta…”

“He had one of his deputies lie to me and tell me that Fangs was dead,” he muttered. “Plus, why the hell is the Klump girl’s mother wandering around town free as a bird? And what is going on with Hal’s case, anyways? Not as appealing to the Sheriff as framing a damn kid because his bosses wanted him to?”

“I’m sorry, okay? We can cast blame at me all the two of you want, but don’t you think that getting Betty and Alice out of these  _ terrible _ situations the first priority you should have?”

“And retrieving FP’s daughter from Toledo,” Cheryl added, her tone rather brusque. 

“Yes, that will be dealt with as well,” he sighed. He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t suppose either of you know where this farm is?”

“Allie, she, uh, she wrote down the address,” FP told him. “She wanted me to come visit. Said she was going to miss me.” 

“And you didn’t view that as the  _ red flag  _ that it was?” Cheryl snipped. “Honestly, men are  _ so _ obtuse.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, boys, to my chariot.”

“Cheryl, don’t you think your chariot is a little small to fit the three of us  _ and _ Alice and Betty?” FP asked. “Plus, do you really want it exposed to  _ farm  _ life? What if they have Alice wrestling pigs?”

“Perhaps taking the Sheriff’s truck would be wise,” she allowed. Tom watched lips curl up in derision. He suspected it was going to be a long day.

“Come on, guys,” he said. “I’ll drive, and, you’ll be lucky that I don’t sit you both in the back.”

“I’ll sit in the back,” FP offered. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Tom felt the need to worry about it, though, he kept his mouth shut, as he shepherded both of his new charges into the truck. He was certainly not about to go let FP and Cheryl (of all the forces of destruction) go off on their own to rescue and avenge people. He saw the capacity for bloodshed if he did. More importantly, he saw the capacity for them to be arrested if they did. He didn’t trust Sheriff Minetta further than he could throw him. 

“No Serpents jackets today?” 

“Please,” Cheryl drawled. “I am fully capable of reading a room, and knowing when to put on airs. As for this one, he is wearing articles of clothing he abandoned at Cousin Alice’s house after their various trysts. I don’t think even he would leave his jacket there.”

“You and Alice, eh?” Tom asked. “Sierra and I noticed something between the two of you.”

FP scowled at him and Cheryl from his position in the back. Cheryl looked smug. “There is no Alice and me,” he grumbled. “We’re just friends. She’d rather pick the farm over me, anyways. Hasn’t she made that clear? We would have taken her back.”

“You think that Cousin Alice would have asked Jughead to let her back into the Serpents?” Cheryl asked, and her tone was one of disbelief. “I’m not saying this as a dig to him, but, really? You think that she would have come up to her daughter’s boyfriend and bared her soul or whatever to him and risked him saying no?” She scoffed. “Cousin Alice is too proud for that. I’m sure she would have done so with you,” she allowed, and she waved a dismissive hand towards the back. “But, again, this brings us back to the conversational topic of feelings, as in, Cousin Alice has feelings for you. It’s frankly demeaning to see her turn into a pile of goo when you’re around. I thank Heavens she never displayed this behavior around Cousin Axe Murderer, because she would have had to be committed.”

“So, you’re saying that you approve?” 

“You meet my minimally acceptable standards,” she said. “I’m sure Nana Rose will find the addition of your love child to be on the level of those worthy of Blossom blood.”

  
  


***

  
  


Nana Rose. There was something familiar about that name, and it was familiar in a bad way to FP, sort of like how people mentioning Senior made his stomach hurt and his palms sweat after all those years that the man had been dead. Except, well, Senior had been his abusive father, and, FP was fairly certain he had never  _ met _ Nana Rose. So why did he feel so nauseated at the mention of the woman. 

“Who precisely is Nana Rose?” He asked, his mouth tasting like cotton swabs as he did. Cheryl gazed back at him. “I mean, I know she’s your grandmother, but, like...maternally, paternally, both?”

Memories of a Saturday detention flitted through his mind. Goading Alice about burning down the dumpster at the trailer park. Her calling him out on being like his dad. Freddie telling everyone that his father was sick. And then -- fuck. Then there had been Penelope, telling all of the fuckups she’d ended up in detention with about how her mother and father had picked her out of a perverse fucking lineup and adopted her for the sole purpose of marrying her brother. He’d thought it was bullshit at the time, but...what the fuck had they done?

“I don’t know,” Cheryl answered after a moment. “I assumed she was a paternal relative, I mean, she is Nana Rose Blossom, after all, but, now…” 

“She groomed your mother to marry your father,” he exclaimed. Tom Keller’s eyebrows rose to alarming heights. “She told us, that day in detention. Penelope. We were just playing a game…”

“What are you talking about?” Cheryl demanded.

“We were just fucking around,” he said. “We were playing Secrets and Sins.” 

“Nana Rose wouldn’t--she couldn’t--she  _ saved _ me.”

“Penelope told us that she was adopted from there,” he told her. “They’d gathered all the red haired girls up and let your grandparents have their pick of them.”   
  


“Oh my God,” she whispered. “She’s  _ living _ with me.”

“Not anymore she’s not--”   
  


“Like hell she is--”

“Cheryl,” Tom said. “Is Rose your guardian?” 

“I got emancipated,” she told him. “Ms. McCoy helped me. That must have been what Cousin Alice meant.”

“What?” FP asked. 

“When they came to take Polly home,” she elaborated. “She told my mom and dad that their Doctor Moreau experimentations of breeding and eugenics were over. I thought she was just upset that Jason and Polly were cousins, I mean, I couldn’t really blame her. Polly clearly hates it. She never lets me see the twins.” She shook her head. “I think it was about my mom and dad, though.”

“She won’t be living there much longer,” he insisted. “I don’t care what we have to do to get you safe.”   
  


If anyone would have told him that he would be saying words of comfort to Cheryl Blossom prior to that day, he would have laughed in their face. And, yet, here he was. Comforting the girl.

Cheryl sniffled. “You promise?” 

“Yeah, I promise,” he said. “It will be okay.”

“Thank you, FP.” She fell silent. Tom continued to drive. He drummed his fingers nervously on his thighs. “Is that...Cousin Alice? Oh my God, it is. Isn’t it? What is she doing?”

FP’s eyes followed Cheryl’s gaze. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” He demanded, as Tom pulled the truck over to the side of the road. Calling it a road was charitable. FP thought it was more of a damn highway. And there was Alice, fucking  _ hitchhiking  _ up the damn thing. “She’s trying to thumb it,” he explained to Cheryl, who bore a pained expression. “Hitchhiking. It’s fucking dangerous.”

“Fret not,” she said. “That is never on my list of approved activities.”

FP rolled down his window as the truck rolled to a stop. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman? Trying to give me a heart attack?” He opened the door. “Jesus fuck, Allie.”   
  


“Jonesy?” She questioned. “You came for me?”   
  


“You asked me to. But, Alice, you told me to come to the farm, not come to the breakdown lane of the damn Thruway. Get in the truck before you get killed.” FP decided not to even give Alice a choice in that matter. She was getting in the truck whether she wanted to or not, and there was nothing wrong with bodily lifting her up and dragging her and her damn luggage in with him. “Allie, what is the matter with you?” He whispered, his traveling companions forgotten about as he shut the door behind her, and buckled her in with the greatest of care. He smoothed her hair back, and cupped her chin to give her a kiss. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“It’s not alright,” Cheryl interjected. “Why would you wander around on a major highway? What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” Alice responded. “I couldn’t stay there. I had to leave. It was dangerous.” 

“Dangerous how?” Tom asked. FP glared.

“Who gives a shit?” He demanded. “Maybe we can talk about specifics later?” He looped his arm around Alice’s shoulders, and he clucked soothingly at her as she laid her head on his chest. “It’s gonna be okay, Allie,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, and I’m not gonna let you go.”

“Jonesy?” 

“Yeah, baby?” Whatever, FP thought to himself, after the damn heart attack Alice had given all of them, he was more than willing to admit his feelings out loud to her. “This okay?”

“Can we go get Betty?” Her voice was low, and he had to strain to hear it. “I made a mistake. I didn’t know what he was capable of. Polly and...they told me that she needed to go away.”

“Did he hurt you?” He demanded. “Alice, did he? Because we can go--”   
  


She shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that,” she assured him. Not that a shaking, quivering, Alice was much of an assurance. “I just want to get Betty...and then can we go home? With you?”

“Yeah, of course, yeah, Allie, whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry that I called your trailer a soup can,” she whispered, and he heard her start to cry. “I wish I had just stayed with you. I’m so sorry.” 

“Al, it’s okay,” he said. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Ugh,” Cheryl said. “Cousin Alice, if you think you won’t be spending quality time in that trailer, preferably under an armed guard when you are not under myself or your boyfriend’s careful watch, you have another thing coming. Are you supposed to be on medication? You need to resume taking whatever it is you have stopped taking at the behest of your hippie daughter and her little band of negative influences, because if you think I ever want to see you hitchhiking again, you have taken leave of your senses.”

“Boyfriend?” Alice questioned. “FP?”

“Yeah, Allie,” he said. “You’re my girlfriend.”

  
  
  
  



	4. he's gone to heaven, so, i've got to be good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You joined a cult,” Cheryl chimed in, her tone flat. “How much worse could you get? I don’t want to know. You are not allowed to get worse.”

“I can’t help but notice that Cousin Alice didn’t answer my question,” Cheryl said, her tone one of disappointment, and FP glared at her. “What? If Cousin Alice is supposed to be on medication and isn’t, would that not explain some of her more erratic behaviors as of late?” She sighed. “Such as, oh, I don’t know, her decision to wander around on the side of a major highway  _ thumbing _ it, as you so eloquently put it?”

“Cheryl!” Sheriff Constant Disappointment exclaimed. “What--”   
  


“I have…” Cousin Alice trailed off, and Cheryl glanced in the rearview mirror at her and FP, and she noted how Cousin Alice looked as if she thought it was possible to disappear if she pressed herself close enough to FP. “It’s embarrassing,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have gone off them.”

Cheryl stared straight ahead, resolutely hoping to find a sense of patience, and she reminded herself that it would none of them any good if she frightened off un-medicated Cousin Alice on the New York Thruway. “Cousin Alice,” she said, and she tried very hard to affect a tone of gentleness. “I’m sure that it’s not embarrassing,” she assured her. “No one here will tell a soul what...condition you have.” Cheryl glared at both of her male traveling companions. “Isn’t that right?”   
  


“Of course it is,” Cheryl’s temporary driver said. FP Jones seemed incapable of responding, though she elected to allow this because, by ignoring her, he was attempting to calm down Cousin Alice. 

“You don’t understand,” she heard the blonde weep. “I  _ can’t _ tell anyone. What will the neighbors think if they know? What will  _ you _ think of me if you know? Everything in the world is falling apart, why can’t I just keep this  _ one _ thing?”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Since when do you care what the neighbors will think?” She demanded. “First of all, what neighbors do you possibly value enough to care what their opinions are? Fred and Archibald Andrews? I feel that he might be slightly preoccupied by the fact that his idiotically noble son has pulled a runner. Again.” She sighed. “That statement has Cousin Should Have Hit His Heart written all over it,” she continued. Cheryl was unamused. “Screw what your neighbors think. As for Jones,” she said. “As for Jones, your newly minted boyfriend is the last person on this earth that has the ability to judge you for anything, Cousin Alice. Honestly, I think you could confess to murdering someone, and he’d hide the body for you.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever piddly little issue you have that you typically have under control, I’m sure that he won’t care about.”   
  


Cousin Alice drew in a deep breath, and Cheryl resisted the urge to tell her that it was unbecoming to continue to curl up against her significant other in an attempt to evade eye contact. 

“Hal said that it made me deviant,” she muttered. “That there was something wrong with me, that being diagnosed with what I was diagnosed with made me  _ evil _ and crazy, and that if everyone found out that I was  _ out of control _ he would take my job, and my kids, and my life. I guess I don’t care about that anymore,” she muttered. “Everything I ever worked for is gone. I can’t live in my house anymore because he’s  _ always _ there and when he’s not it’s things like the  _ Gargoyle King _ and they’re trying to kill us. My job? What a joke. The Lodges have turned the Register into their own personal  _ Lodge Ledger _ and I should have just let them buy me out, too,” she whispered. “At least then I would have money, and some bit of self respect.” She shook her head. “And the kids...God, what the hell did being raised by me ever do them? Polly is never coming back,” she declared. “She’s...having...she’s in a  _ relationship _ with that bastard Edgar.” Cousin Alice sniffled. “And poor Elizabeth. We have to get her out of there.” She shook her head. “BPD. That’s what I have.”

“So?” Cheryl scoffed. 

“What do you mean, so?” Alice asked. Cheryl watched her pull her hair back into a ponytail. Perhaps there was some hope for her yet. “You asked what was wrong with me, didn’t you?”

“What is wrong with you is that you were married to Cousin Hal,” Cheryl said, and she let out a sigh. “Who cares if you have to pop a handful of pills a day to be your normal, delightful, self? You think you’re the only one here with problems?”

“I’m concerned about the situation with Polly…,” Sheriff Keller interjected. “Isn’t she under the age of majority?”   
  


“Oh, screw Cousin Polly,” she snapped. “Hasn’t she done enough damage to Cousin Alice? Let alone the naming standards for the Blossom family? As if we didn’t have enough issues. For that matter, hasn’t your family done enough damage?”

“What are you talking about?” Alice questioned. 

“Oh, you weren’t there for my big confessional,” Cheryl remembered. “You see, Sheriff Keller’s son never bothered to tell him about what exactly the Sisters of Quiet Mercy do,” she said, sighing. “Not even after Veronica and Toni rescued me after following his instructions.”

“I didn’t know you went to the Sisters,” she said. “When?”

“Last year, Cousin Alice,” she told her. “Right before my attempt to star in Carrie.” She sighed. “My wonderful mother sent me there,” she said. “Because I’m bisexual. They offer conversion therapy.”

“Oh, Cheryl,” she said, and Cheryl watched as she peeled herself off of FP to lean forward and take her hand. “Cheryl, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”   
  


“It’s not your fault, Cousin Alice,” she assured her. “I just wish that Cousin Betty had bothered to inform you of the situation at any point.”

“Elizabeth knew?” 

“Apparently, that would be how she and the boy found out about what happened to Charles,” FP told her, his tone rather gentle. Cheryl was impressed. It appeared he could be taught. She had found a semi-worthy pupil. “They took it upon themselves to blackmail the nuns.” 

“And she didn’t tell me?”   
  


“I don’t think it was out of malice, Allie,” he said. “Things went south quickly and how do you really gracefully fit that into a conversation?”

Cheryl heard Cousin Alice sigh. “I guess you’re right, FP.” She shook her head. “You really don’t think that it’s the end of the world? Being with me? Even though you now know how screwed up I am?”   
  


“Hey, Allie, it’s okay. I don’t care about things like that.” 

  
  


***

  
  


“Okay,” she admitted quietly. “Maybe, escaping the farm and hitchhiking on the Thruway was an error in judgment. Especially since I had my phone.” 

“All you had to do was call, Allie,” FP murmured, and she smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around her. “Would’ve come and got you,” he added. “Just glad you’re okay.”

“You were really worried about me?” She asked. Though Alice had been firmly against pulling into a pharmacy and getting her prescriptions filled then and there (Cheryl had accompanied her, and used her Blossom name to ensure compliance), she had to admit that either they had taken effect or the placebo effect was great enough to realize that she had been positively out of her mind. Not that she was particularly thrilled at this realization. “I was really that bad?”

“You joined a cult,” Cheryl chimed in, her tone flat. “How much worse could you get? I don’t want to know. You are not allowed to get worse.” 

“Even if you weren’t that bad,” FP told her. “I would still worry about you. What are you looking at?”

Alice’s eyes had locked on the wedding ring that was on FP’s finger, and she had gotten an idea. It wasn’t really like she thought the Sisters would give her any trouble. They would have some nerve if they did. But…there was the possibility. And she didn’t really want to go in there alone. So. Enter FP and that ring he still wore despite Gladys’s repeated stunts.

“Your wedding ring,” she said, her tone earnest. “I mean, I don’t care that you wear it,” she told him. “I understand that you’re still married. I just...think that we can use it to our advantage.”

“The damn thing has never given me an advantage,” he snarked. “Just ruined my life.”

“What happened?” She questioned. “Did Gladys do something else? Is she back?”

“No, no, honey, she’s not back,” he told her. “Didn’t even come back when I was in the clink, did you know? Jughead was living alone. In my trailer.” He scowled. “Then, your new cousin Cheryl, here, tells me that what Gladys did with Jellybean, that was parental kidnapping. That’s right, right?”   
  


“Sadly,” she said. “It is quite unfortunate.” 

“Jonesy…” Alice whispered, and she trailed off, taking his hands in hers. “Whatever you need to fight this, to get Jellybean back, I’m here for you. I won’t rest until she’s back with you and Jughead.”

“That’s the other thing, Cousin Alice,” she said. “The boys have run off. Who even knows where they are? Headed to disappeared Mom’s, perhaps?”   
  


FP gaze hardened. “That boy better  _ not _ fucking go there,” he snapped. “I don’t give a damn  _ shit  _ what Lodge did to that kid, or wants to do to that kid, he is  _ not _ going there.” He sighed. “What was your idea, Allie?”

“I really don’t think that I should be going into the convent alone,” Alice said quietly. “Which, is where you come in, as your shiny new role as Elizabeth’s step-father.” 

“What?” He gaped.

“Oh, it’s not real, Jonesy,” she assured him. “Don’t worry. I’m crazy, but I know better than to cause you to need to commit bigamy. I just need you to...play along.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “I want my daughter back,” she told him. “Just like you do.” 

“Okay,” he said. He pressed his lips to hers. “Yeah, I’ll be your husband,” he muttered. “It’ll be good practice.”

“For what?” Alice asked him, her tone a curious one. “What on earth would our little game of charades be practice for?”   
  


“You know, someday, I’d love to marry you,” he admitted. She noticed he was blushing. “I mean, once things settle down and everything. And you’re feeling better.” 

“I’d like that too,” she whispered, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “More than anything.” 

While in the bathroom at the pharmacy, Alice had changed from the clothes she had worn to escape the farm in, and into something more befitting of a woman of her stature that was coming to the world’s most screwed up convent to retrieve her child (Alice was pretty sure Elizabeth was never going to forgive her for this). Oh, sure, it wasn’t the  _ most _ conservative outfit she owned (there was no need to punish FP by forcing him to look at that lavender turtleneck sweater), but, still, Alice knew how these things went, and she was more than capable of putting on the airs that the place didn’t entirely deserve. Her hair had been fixed into an attractive chignon, and all of the new age jewelry that she’d worn on the farm had been discarded. She’d wanted to throw it out, but Cheryl had convinced her that Toni might want it. The only thing that she’d kept was the ring that FP had given her back in high school, back before the  _ stupid _ game. 

It was a pretty ring. She’d needed something to replace her wedding ring set, anyways. And, he’d smiled when he’d seen it on her. 

That had been the best part of all: FP had been  _ happy _ because of something that’d she’d done. 

“I love you, you know that, right?” She asked him, as she took his hands in hers. “More than anything else in the world, I love you.”

“I know, Allie,” he told her. “Love you, too. You know, right?”

She squeezed his hands. “I know.” She sighed, as she peered at the building ahead of them. “You’re not going to leave, are you?” She directed the comment at Tom, who looked decidedly ill-at-ease. 

“No, Cheryl and I will stay here,” he said. “No one is going to leave you.” 

“Okay,” she said, hoping her tone was more confident than she felt. “Come on, honey.”

  
  


***

  
  


“This place creeps me out,” FP murmured, as he placed a possessive arm around Alice’s waist, inwardly cringing about the fact that it was a place where she had felt safe. “Was it like this when you were pregnant?” He regretted asking the question almost immediately. Where the hell did he get off asking her those personal things, he asked himself. They were none of his business.

“It looks exactly the same,” Alice said after a moment. “I spent most of my time in the Garden of Deliverance,” she continued. He noticed how tightly she gripped his hand. “I was alone there,” she told him. “Well, I mean, except for the baby.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I have no--”

“You have every right to know,” she corrected. “No one else has ever bothered to ask,” she informed him. “And, FP, you were his father. If anyone has the right to ask me these questions, it’s you.” 

“What was he like?” He questioned. “Did you even get to see him?”

“I held him for a little bit, after he was born,” she whispered. “He looked like you.”

“You think he would have liked me?”   
  


“Of course he would have,” Alice told him. “I wish that I had told you,” she admitted. “I really wish that I had. Maybe we could have tried.” 

“I know, Allie,” he soothed. “It’s okay, you can’t change what happened,” he whispered. “God knows I would change a helluva lotta things too.” 

“I know,” she sighed. “Come on, the-- Elizabeth???” 

A blonde torpedo ran into Alice’s arms, followed in hot pursuit by two nuns, and two male orderlies, and that damn Muggs girl who had gotten Jughead involved in the game, and Alice let out a shriek. FP decided that he was going to take charge. Whatever. He was Betty’s fake stepfather, or whatever, wasn’t he? He could pretend to be the man of the house. 

He stood in between his woman, and those damn hypocritical assholes, and decided, the hell with it. He was pretty sure he was damned to hell anyways, and he really didn’t much care for the way that Betty was clinging to Alice and weeping, like she was a demon possessed.

“We’re leaving,” he said, and he took the cup that the older nun had in her hands, and wrinkled his nose at the contents. “I wonder how the good citizens of Rockland County would feel, knowing that their Catholic boarding school for their  _ troubled _ children was supplying them with drugs?” 

“How do you know that?” The nun demanded. 

“Know a lot about the things that you people do,” he said, a challenge in his tone. “Perhaps we haven’t met,” he allowed. “I’m Elizabeth’s stepfather. Alice and I are here to take her home.” 

“I--”   
  


“I’m really not the type of person you should cross,” he said, matter-of-factly. “We’ll be going now.” 

“Fine,” she said. “The two of you can take her. And, Alice? This is the last time  _ any _ of your family is allowed in here.”

“You  _ lied to me _ about my son!” Alice exclaimed, and he found Betty being shoved into his arms, as he tried to hold his grip on his fake wife. “You told me that he had a family, that he was adopted, that they loved him. You  _ lied to me _ and you never bothered to tell me that he was  _ festering _ here! I would have taken him! I would have loved him. I’m not incapable! So, you’re right, Sister Woodhouse. You won’t get another damn cent from me, or any of us.” She drew in a deep breath. “We’re done here. Done! Come on, FP, Elizabeth, we’re leaving.”

FP didn’t have to be told twice. “Come on, Betty,” he said. “I’ll carry you out.” She was crying, quietly, into his chest, and he felt like his heart was breaking. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

He frogmarched Alice down the hall beside him, while Betty clung tightly to his neck. “I don’t have to go back?” She heard. 

“No,” he said, his tone firm. “You and your mom, you’re staying with me.”


	5. ain't nothing that i need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alice,” he said. “Listen to me. You didn’t kill Charles. If anyone killed Charles, it was Chic, okay? Not you. Are you even sure that he’s actually dead?”

“You don’t have to put us up,” Alice said, her tone quiet, and she sat awkwardly on the opposite end of the couch from him, not able to look him in the eyes. The enormity of what she had done had hit her over the course of the day, and she felt deeply embarrassed. Not just for herself, but for what she had done to Elizabeth. Not that the teenager was speaking to either of them. After the shower she had insisted on taking, Betty had sequestered herself in Jughead’s room, and refused to come out. Alice really couldn’t blame her. “I’m sorry that I caused you so much trouble,” she continued. “Forcing you to pretend to be my husband…? I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I shouldn’t have put either of you in any of the situations that I put you in.”

“Alice,” FP said, his tone soft, and she felt him reach out and grip her hand. “You weren’t mentally well, I think we’ve established. Dealing with what happened would have been difficult for anyone. I don’t blame you. And Betty will come around. I think that that she’s looking for the boy, anyways. He and Archie have run away.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m not  _ supposed _ to need to deal with things. What is there for me to have to deal with? Every decision I’ve ever made has led up to this, and I just need to accept that. Accept that I  _ never  _ made a decision that has  _ ever _ been for less than selfish reasons, that’s  _ ever _ been for anything other than what’s easiest for me, accept that this is what I  _ deserve _ for everyone’s life I’ve ever ruined. I’m sorry that I killed Charles. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know that was him. I thought he was a solicitor. He never  _ told _ me--”

“Alice,” he said. “Listen to me. You didn’t kill Charles. If anyone killed Charles, it was Chic, okay? Not you. Are you even sure that he’s actually dead?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, no offense, Al, but did it ever occur to you that Chic could have  _ lied _ to you? He had already wormed his way into your home, he had pretended to be  _ our _ son, what would have stopped him from lying about him being dead when he was called out on it?”

Alice glanced over at him for a moment, before she resumed her commitment to staring down at her lap, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world. She supposed that it hadn’t occurred to her, that she had taken what Chic had said at face value, but what good did deluding herself do? She had spent 25 years thinking that her son --  _ their son _ \-- had been living a good life, with a good family, and he’d been sat in the Sisters and left to rot. The realization that she had been mislead had been traumatizing in itself. She hadn’t had the energy to wonder whether Chic had been lying. 

Perhaps she would have had the energy had her  _ idiot _ husband not been the town’s serial killer. She really didn’t know. 

“That doesn’t change anything.” 

“I don’t think that you’re a horrible person,” he insisted. “Why? Because you have BPD? I don’t care about that, Allie. I love you, all of you. I don’t care that you have something wrong with you. I never would have. Hell, I’m just as fucked up.”

“You’re only an alcoholic,” she sniffled. “You can fix yourself. I never could. No matter how hard I tried. Clearly I can’t. You saw how I’ve been acting lately.” 

“Listen,” he whispered, as he bridged the distance between them, in order to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. “I don’t care if you have to take those pills every day of your life,” he said, and she leaned closer to him, daring to relax incrementally. It was nice, being held by FP. She couldn’t remember the last time someone she’d loved hadn’t automatically viewed her as some sort of burden. Even Betty thought she was someone to merely tolerate half the time. Harold certainly hadn’t made her feel safe and comforted. “When I said that this feels right, and that I love you, I mean those things, Alice. The fact that you have a medical condition doesn’t change how I feel about you.” 

“You  _ love _ me?” Her tone was tinged with disbelief. It had been awhile since she had heard anyone say those words with anything resembling a genuine tone. “You mean that?”

“Loved you since we were kids,” he said, his tone sounding matter of fact. “Loved you enough to let you leave, didn’t I?”

“I wish that I hadn’t,” she said. “I was just...I was  _ terrified  _ of what happened. Hal seemed safe.” 

“You don’t have to explain, Allie,” he whispered. “I was pissed off at you for a long time, but, we’re good. I get it.” 

“What would you say if I said that I loved you, too?” She was hesitant. Not because she didn’t love FP (she really did), but because she didn’t know if she could handle the emotional upheaval his rejection could cause her. It had devastated her, that day at Pop’s. “Because, I do, FP. But I  _ can’t _ be played with again. I can’t keep living my life afraid of doing the wrong thing, like I have done for 25 years. I don’t have the energy to.” She sniffled. “I thought that we’d  _ had _ something together, and then you blew me off like we were in high school again. That  _ really _ hurt.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I’m...really sorry that I did. I wrote you something.” 

“What?” Her interest was piqued, and she watched as he peeled himself away from her and crossed the room to where his television set was, and watched him pluck a pink envelope from a pile of DVDs. He handed it to her, and she carefully opened it, not wanting to ruin either the envelope or the letter. It had obviously been a big deal to him -- he had kept it for all these months -- and that made it a big deal for her. She read the letter slowly, wanting to savor all of the words that he had worked so hard on, and she willed herself not to cry. She had done quite enough of that over the course of her life. Instead, she stood and wrapped her arms around him, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “That was very sweet...thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Allie,” he whispered. “I’ll write you notes all the time, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “You said that Jughead and Archibald are missing?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it missing, Al, you know how teenagers are,” he hedged. She pursed her lips. “What?”

“Do you think that I let Archibald or Jughead associate with  _ my _ daughter without being able to have precise knowledge of where they were at all times?” She questioned. “That would have been extremely liberal parenting of me,” she drawled. “I don’t believe in that.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Alice sighed. “I have tracking software,” she admitted. “Have you been around Archibald? He wouldn’t know a sane decision if it bit him on the ass.” 

“On just the boys?”

“Don’t be foolish,” she purred. “Not  _ solely _ on the boys. There are plenty of other people in this hellhole town that need to be potentially observed. What type of reporter would I be if I didn’t keep tabs on people?”

“You keep tabs on me?”

“Of course,” she said, her tone breezy. “It’s important when establishing your alibis.” 

“Where the hell  _ are _ they?” 

Alice peered at her phone. “Well, for starters, Fred and Tom are waiting outside of your front door,” she sighed. “What a shame. It would have been nice to not deal with them.”

“You’re  _ tracking  _ Tom Keller?” 

“Honestly, Jonesy. It’s like you think his role as the former Sheriff would stop me.” 


End file.
